Broken
by CrAzYhOrSeGiRl88
Summary: When Daine is captured by Scanrans she is exposed to countless tortures. When Numair comes to save her he finds a shocking sight and is asked and even more shocking favor...DN
1. Nostalgia

A/N: Hey everyone....I know that you're all probably upset with me for doing something besides Wolfish Desires and Gallan Return, but I just REALLY needed to, so give me a break. Depression has caused major writer's block to hit for both of my current fics, so I thought that maybe doing a quick 2 to 3 part fic would help to fix that....We shall soon see if it works! Also, just so you know, at this very moment, most of this fic is already written, so you don't have to worry about me never updating....  
  
IMPORTANT  
Just to give you guys the heads up, this fic really breaks the happy ending mold for me. In other words, it doesn't have a happy ending. If that's not your thing, then you might not find this story to be to your taste….  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters you recognize, nor do I own the lyrics you see used here. The characters belong to Tamora Pierce of course and the lyrics belong to Seether and Amy Lee...  
  
Life. It is a funny thing when brought into true perspective. What it is, what it truly is, is a mystery to all. Perhaps it is not even the same to each individual person. The best way perhaps to correctly gaze at the aspects of life is through the age old concept of symbolism. Such things are everywhere, and in every human's mind, whether they acknowledge this fact or not. Unconsciously, everyone compares something to something else that is entirely different. In that way, humans especially often find themselves comparing life to scenery. Some of this world's many scenes are full of such splendor and glory, just as some lives are. Some also stir deep depression and angst, having seemingly no end to pain and misery. Life is that way also. No two lives are remotely the same, just as no two scenes.  
  
On this day, Numair Salmalin found himself thinking along these very same lines. He sat now, in the middle of a large grassy plain, raised up on a small hill. The hill overlooked a large, bountiful wheat field. As he sat now, leaning his back against a large granite boulder, Numair himself intently gazing down upon that field that lay below the hill. He watched without moving, not even to blink, as the wheat blew rhythmically in the light Tortallan breeze. The golden rays of the sun shone down on the stalks of wheat, setting each and every inch of the field alight with a transparent glow. Though the air was scorching with heat this day, autumn was soon to come for Tortall, and so the field had several men sweating away at their work tending to the field. Soon would be the harvest, so there was no time to delay in their work. Numair watched them with special interest with the same entranced look he had held when he had been so occupied by the dancing movements of the wheat stalks.  
  
Watching the young men slaving in the field, Numair knew that they had a purpose in life. They were here in this world for their occupation. It was what consumed their entire life up to this point, for they appeared to be far too young to have yet achieved a family to raise or even a bride to wed. These young men, boys really, knew of their purpose and accepted it. Watching them, knowing what they knew, Numair was jealous of them. Of their freshness in life and of the chances they still had ahead of them. He had long since passed up such corner stones in his life, and in a way he was glad. But in another, he longed to be filled, to be complete. It was not as if this feeling of sheer totality was foreign to him, quite the opposite really. No, Numair Salmalin knew well what it felt like to be whole, to have no void space. But that had been a time ago, a time which he remembered well despite the large rift between then and now.  
  
But still that rift in time remained. What Numair had once had, that single thing, that single being that had filled his entire mind, body and soul could never return to fill him again. It was that thought, that seemingly endless promise that the void within Numair now would never be filled that kept the man constantly on edge. To have had something so special and so unique and then to have lost it, it was heart wrenching. He could remember the time so well when he had been complete in every aspect of the word. He had soaked it all up, at times ever taking its existence for advantage. He knew now how precious that time of fulfillment was. Often now he would find himself thinking if only it would return to him, if only he could somehow get a second chance. But this would never be; it could never come to pass.  
  
Often times, Numair longed for the memories, sought them deep within his mind. Other times though he would race to the very ends of the earth just to escape their horrors. Of the late, Numair had come to realize that the reality of it all was that he could not escape the memories any more than he could escape himself. They were a part of him, a vital part of him that would be forever etched into the depths of his heart and mind. In the beginning he had found himself trying to desperately tear away at his soul, pulling at his mind to rid himself of the haunting thoughts and memories. He had tried everything and at all costs. That had been a very dark period for Numair, though now could hardly be called anything light. Now, he lived in a world of pure gray. It was not that he had fully recovered from his mental and emotional wounds; it was likely he never would. But he had kept going. He had turned away from all of the pain he had tried to inflict upon himself with every new day.  
  
It was all of these thoughts and woes that stormed like thunder through Numair's mind that spurred a burning desire within him to again let his mind drift away into the world of memories. Once again, he would flow into that surreal world, that better place. To Numair, it was real. It had been real at one time, and though that was a very long time ago, he still found himself seeking that place within himself. At times it would bring him utmost comfort, but more often than not it left him with a most intense longing that further reminded him of how empty he was.  
  
As he continued to burn with desire for the memories, he found himself unconsciously beginning to roll up the right sleeve of his white cotton shirt. He rolled it up until it was well past his elbow so that it would stick in place at his upper arm. He then muttered an unnamed word under his breath, looking expectantly at his wrist. He had only a fraction of a second to wait, for almost instantly a thick banded gold chain appeared around his wrist, held tightly shut with a decoratively crafted clasp. Dangling beneath the underside of Numair's wrist suspended by the chain was a tiny gold locket, no larger than the tip of Numair's thumb. The surface of the locket was lavishly decorated with the most intricate of details and designs that were engraved within the gold to last through even the harshest of wear. Yes, this particular piece of jewelry had seen many more years pass than Numair, even more so than most still living could claim. Not only was the locket and bracelet so precious to Numair for what he had made of it, he also held it so dear because it was among the few of his family heir looms he still had in his possession. Anything else that had once belonged to the early Drapers had been destroyed by the previous emperor of Carthak more years ago than Numair cared to count.  
  
It had been several weeks since Numair had dared to allow himself a look at the locket or its treasured contents. He could only handle so much at one time, he had found. If he tried any more, he would lose what sanity he had managed to sustain throughout the years. Bringing out the locket among other things managed to take him to that different time, that faraway place that often seemed to be an alternate universe. In truth, it was nothing more than his past. His life had once been so rich and fulfilling, holding color and splendor such as nothing he had ever known. Often enough, those were the times he allowed his mind to venture to every so often. At times, he could not avoid returning there, even if he were to try. There were other times though, dark times that lacked all sense of color and light. They were nothing but sadness; memories of a time he would just as soon forget.  
  
Looking down at the locket now, running his fingers over its finely detailed surface, Numair felt torn. Part of him wanted to open it and once again allow the memories of a better time and a better place to absorb him fully. Another part of him, perhaps the more rational side told him that it was nothing more than a vivid fantasy and could do nothing but hurt him if he continued to allow it to haunt him. In the end though, the irrational side of him won. It always did, for he could never find a way to resist the wonderful feelings that were unearthed within him once more. With this in mind, a small, hardly noticeable smile played at the edge of Numair's mouth. It was a rare choice of action for the man. Lifting the locket and his wrist along with it up to the level of his eye, Numair, delicately so as not to damage it, reached out and with thumb and forefinger pressed together slowly opened the locket. Like most of its kind, Numair's locket had two wings that extended out like shutters when it was opened as he had just done. The wing that extended out to the right held a single smoky brown curl that was coiled neatly into place to fit inside the tiny locket when it was closed. The left wing held the tiniest of portraits, completed in the most impossible of details. The image itself was of a young girl of no more than fifteen years of age. If a stranger were to come across the locket years later, it would be obvious to he or she that the curl pinned securely down on the right belonged to this stunningly beautiful young woman with those seemingly unfathomable blue gray eyes and that stubborn chin. Her beauty was not an average one, for it was not sickly so. She seemed to be just herself, and nothing more. That was surely then what made her image so captivating to the eye of any onlooker. Or perhaps it was her attractive full rosy lips or her perfectly proportioned button nose. Still, she had something that was clearly her own and that was something no common beauty could produce.  
  
Numair gazed down at the painting now with such adoration and longing in his eyes, that if anyone were to see him they would glance upon him with pity. For the look in his eyes left no room to doubt that he had faced an unbearable loss. Numair ran his finger ever so gently over the rough, crusted surface of the tiny painting. It spoke loudly of a time that he had loved, a time that he would do anything, give anything to have back in his possession again. If only life allowed second chances, then true happiness and longing to live could be his.  
  
Now, Numair turned his attention to the single strand of hair that was clipped securely to the right wing of the locket. His eyes were filled with infatuation, his mind and imagination creating images of that time so long ago. "Daine...." he voiced in a cracked whisper. His voice was soft as a feather as he spoke this single word. It was as if he were speaking of a goddess when the word played on his lips. Gods had it been a long time since he had voiced that name. As he voiced it, he tenderly extended a finger and stroked the single curl; it was all that he had left of her. Just thinking of her, speaking the name of the love that he had lost long ago made him recall where he was now. It was an ever significant place in his life. It was a place that had led him to what he had once believed would be endless happiness.  
  
After several minutes of silence, Numair managed to tear his eyes away from the locket and its contents and turn his attention back to the wheat field that lay before him. He found himself thinking for the thousandth time that day of how stunningly beautiful that field was as each of its golden stalks of wheat danced to the song of the wind. Though it truly was beautiful, it could never hold a candle to what this entire clearing used to be. Numair remembered a time well over a decade ago when it had been so much more, especially through his own eyes. It was illustrative of a cornerstone in his life, one that took place more years ago than Numair cared to remember. It had all been so long ago. A lot of that time was nothing more to him now than a mere shadow of a memory. But most of it was something he still treasured to this very day and would never forget until the day he died.  
  
Yes, Numair would never forget what this very clearing used to be. Years and years ago, before this family of farmers had purchased and tamed this land, it had been so much more. Though now the land was soiled and plowed and turned into a fruitful wheat field, it had once produced something so much more special and unique; something much more valuable than a yearly wheat harvest. It had produced a bond of sorts, one that would lead to a relationship that would change the very country as they all knew it. In this place, something so rare and beautiful had been spawned. That something, was love. But not just any love. No, this love had been a love that could only exist in scarce amounts. The gods dispersed such affection on mortals sparingly, but this had been one of the few times they had. It was the kind of love that left its occupant walking on clouds every minute. Constantly short of breath, often found dreaming. It was a dream in itself, a wondrous sensation that could be outdone by nothing, nor could it even be matched. Better even than that, it was a bond so strong that even the great gods themselves could not sever it. It was true love, plain and simple.  
  
Numair remembered all of this well. He could picture it all clearly in his mind, not a fraction of it blurry. It had been so long ago, but it was a time in his life that he would never forget. True love after all can never be forgotten. In this very place that he now gazed upon, this place that was now farmed and civilized as it had not been at the time, he had met his soul mate. Though he had not known it at the time, there had been an undeniable spark that rose within him that day when he first met her in this place. It had been in the dead center of that wheat field at the base of the hill on which he now rested. This place had once been an uninhabited marsh land. It was covered by miles of swamp and muck, certainly no place desirable to the human race. Even wildlife was scarce, he remembered. Numair had not been in this place of his own accord that day. No, on that day there were countless places he would rather have been. But now, years later, he could not thank the gods more that he had indeed been there that day. He had been on a spy mission for the king, a dangerous one at that. The worst had happened; he had been captured by the very man he was to be spying on. Thrown into the damp, dark dungeons and left drugged out of his mind, Numair stayed for days. When he finally managed to escape in the form of a black hawk, the drugs had still not fully left his system. Their effect only magnified because of his now small size. He was a bird, no larger than a few feet bearing the amount of drugs it would take to cause a full grown six foot man to lose his wits. It had not been his most brilliant of plans.  
  
It had been then that he had flown dazed into this very clearing. He had been tightly pursued by his captor's followers and to his horror, strange creatures he had seen only in his most horrific of nightmares; stormwings. They were monsters of the worst kind. When he had fallen into the bog that lay beneath him, they had been unable to reach him, for they were kept busy by a familiar K'miri woman, and an unfamiliar assistant. That assistant would soon become all too familiar to him, as she rescued him from what he had thought would be sure death. On that day, an unforgettable bond was formed between them. She became his apprentice, his magelet, his friend. She had become everything to him and he soon found that he could never live without her. He loved everything about her. In his eyes, she could do no wrong. Before he had time to comprehend where his heart was leading him, he found himself fiercely in love with her. He saw her as more than just his dearest friend, but as his lover. And when he learned that she loved him back with the same intensity he felt for her....it had been the most divine feeling he had ever felt. All of the time spent 'alone', not knowing if she returned his feelings, that had been pure torment. But now that he knew of her feelings, it was as if the world was his. And in a sense, it was, for she was his world and now she was his and only his. But it could never last, not forever.  
  
Like all good things, this too had an ending. He had found that it was true: the higher you were, the harder you would fall. Numair had been higher than he could ever have imagined even in his wildest of dreams. He could soar no higher, and neither could she. When he fell, it shattered him. He found himself now, thinking of how it had happened, and even why. Those memories stuck in his head even more clearly than the pleasant ones which he treasured so much. And though these memories filled his nightmares and were horrific in every way, he treasured them as well. It would be an injustice to his love if he ever dared to wish them away. He focused on them now, as he knew that he must do every now and then. It signified a time in his life when he had learned perhaps the greatest lesson he would and could ever learn. There were some things that could not be found in his precious books and experiments. There were aspects of life that could never be understood. Though the experience had been the worst and most haunting of his entire life and none would ever exceed it in all of its horrifying aspects, it was perhaps the greatest thing he had ever done. That was why he allowed himself to drift back now, to think only of those memories. Soon they were appearing as flashes and instances in his mind, becoming all the more clear as each passed. It was then that he found himself drifting off into an oblivion of memory. He was reliving all of the things that haunted his every thought.  
  
I wanted you to know I love the way you laugh  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away  
I keep your photograph and I know it serves me well  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain  
  
A/N: Well, not very revealing, is it? Didn't y'all just LOVE that nice little cliffy? I know I sure did....hehe...don't worry, I've got plans to update again this week, but it all depends on the amount of reviews I get....In other words, its all up to you as to when I add more to this story. Oh, and just so you know, in the next chapter, you find out just what happened to Daine, if that's any sort of motive for you to review....  



	2. Prisoner of War

A/N: Sorry everyone! I know I said I was going to update around Wednesday, but I forgot....I know, I know, lame excuse, but its the truth....again, my deepest apologies for forgetting, especially when it was just sitting on my computer waiting to be posted....anyway, quick explanation about this chapter so the lot of you don't get all confused is simply this: last chapter took place 30 yrs before this one. In this chapter, Numair's memory takes us back to 30 yrs ago when whatever happened to Daine took place. Get what I mean? I hope so, because its no fun for anyone if you're confused.....  
  
(Daine's POV during the Scanran War thirty years previous to last chapter)  
  
"Daine, I know you would do anything for Tortall, but please not this time. Please don't go…." These words ran with a vengeance through Daine's mind, threatening to drive her mad. If anything, she deserved to hear these words with every breath she took, no matter how taunting they now seemed to be. He had been right; without a doubt in her mind, Daine knew that now. Her lover, Numair Salmalin had pleaded those very words to her no more than a week ago. He had begged her to see reason, told her that he had a feeling of sorts that she should not go. When she had laughed at this, and said that it was nothing but his wanting to be with her, he had sworn to her that it was more than that. He had told her that something was not right, and that she should listen to him, if not for her own well being, then for his. To him, something had not felt right about her going, but had she bothered to listen to him or even give his pleading a second thought? No, not until now that is. But now it was far too late for her consideration to matter. If only she had bothered listening sooner, then perhaps she would not have ended up in this horrible state.  
  
She sat now in complete misery hunched in the corner of the tiny cell she had been locked in. she began to reflect back on what had happened that had gotten her here, and she still could not believe it had happened. It had been nothing more than a simple spy mission for the crown. Daine had embarked on many more dangerous missions, so what was so different about this one that she would fail? She still did not know the full answer to that question except for the fact that Numair had been right. He had indeed had a bad feeling about her going, and it had been more than just him wanting to be with her. Gods, if only she could have seen through him and seen that his pleas had not just been on an impulse.  
  
It was about three days into the mission when all had crumbled. She had been in the form of a tawny brown hawk, soaring through the skies over a thick Scanran forest. Daine had tired, for she had been flying without relenting for what felt like days. If she was to successfully get her information to the king, she would have to stop for at least a quick rest for her wings ached from the constant action. Immediately after coming to this conclusion, a small body of water came into view. Now all of Daine's better judgment spoke against her, urging her to stay clear of that small lake. The trees were scarce in that area, making it all too perfect for an ambush. Daine knew from experience that Scanran mages and sentries were stationed throughout all of the forests bordering Tortall, likely hoping to catch a weary spy. But the temptation of fresh, cool water drizzling down her throat was just too great to resist.  
  
Despite all thoughts of possible ambush and capture, Daine had swooped down from the safety of the clouds and had landed in the brush surrounding the clear lake waters. Once landed, the wildmage had quickly dug into the compact leather pouch she had strapped to her leg, and pulled out a change of clothing. In the event that there were Scanrans near by, there was no sense in her meeting them without any clothing.  
  
She had then stepped out of the brush and out onto the treeless lake shores. It was only when she had made it halfway to the sparkling lake waters, about to reach her bounty that Daine realized that danger lurked close by. It had all happened so fast. Daine had been kneeling down on the edge of the shores, leisurely dipping her canteen into the cool lake waters when it had happened. She remembered now hearing a light whizzing sound as a tiny poison tipped dart flew effortlessly through the air and embedded itself deep within the side of her neck. She had hardly had time to shriek from the sudden stinging pain and surprise before more than a dozen ruddy looking men clothed in thick layers of fur leaped from their haven in the nearby brush, dashing towards her with fierce intensity. Daine could remember their vicious shouts of triumph as they pushed and shoved to be the first to reach her. Perhaps the gods had been in her favor in the slightest way that moment, for before they could reach her and Daine could feel their grubby, lust filled hands grope and tug on her body, the poison took its affect and she found herself toppling backward into the water, passed out.  
  
Daine had woken up what she guessed to be two days ago, though she could hardly be sure for her cell held no windows and had no light aside from the torch light that leaked in through the thin bars on the thick oak wood door. Her inner clock though, told her that she had been in this cell for as much as a week.  
  
A sudden cry split the air that instant, breaking Daine all too roughly from her thoughts. Despite her exhaustion, Daine jumped at the heart wrenching sound. Though the owner of the voice was likely to be a rather large distance away, the echoing of the chambers carried the horrific sound to her ears. It chilled the young woman to the bone, causing her to shiver lightly at the tingling sensation that was making its way down her spine. It had almost sounded inhuman. Daine knew though from the deep tone of the cries, that it was the voice of a man, likely a young one from the sound of it. Though she hated to even think of such things, Daine knew that it had to be the sound of ultimate suffering. Her Scanran captors were having their fun with another of their prisoners. Gods, they had to be torturing the poor man mercilessly for him to cry out like that. Again, Daine felt a series of shivers make their way up her spine, causing the hair on the back of her neck to rise in caution.  
  
Unknown to the wildmage as she lay hunched in the corner of her damp cell, her breathing became slowly more rough and strained. Her body trembled violently, each twitch and jerk brought on by intense fear. Daine was beginning to feel her animal instincts fill her mind and body, even her very soul. She felt as if she were being hunted; as if her predator were on the prowl. She sensed personal danger as it approached. It was not until that danger was upon her, that Daine could truly put her finger on it and identify it.  
  
The young woman nearly jumped out of her own skin when the large oak wood door that barred her way of escape from this miserable prison began to shake. There was an instantaneous sound of metal on metal as a key was thrust firmly into the rusted lock and vigorously turned. The hinges, worn from constant use, squeaked with action as the door was thrown roughly open, allowing Daine's enemy entrance.  
  
Upon the intruder's entrance, Daine felt the hair on the back of her neck rise by instinct, her every muscle tense with alertness. She crouched down as low as she could force herself with her back and body pressed firmly against the cold stone wall, her form prepared to spring at any show of violence. She took the time now, to properly look over the intruder, knowing this could very well be her last chance to do so.  
  
Daine raised her head, blue gray eyes glowering menacingly at her predator, as if daring him to make the first move. She could see right away that he was a man, a large one at that. He leaned casually against the door frame, eyes intent on watching her every movement. He was adorned in clothing similar to that of the men who had captured her those days ago in the by the lake. He was cloaked in a gallant looking fur tunic, decorated lavishly with an intricately carved gold clasp. Beneath the cloak were clean silk clothes, and large leather boots, all of the finest quality. He smelled richly of spiced wine and wild game. Daine recognized immediately that this man was a noble of some sort, likely with quite a position. She met his eyes, they were a rich brown in color. She watched as his bearded mouth twitched in what could only be identified as amusement. His eyes sparkled with much the same emotion. It left Daine in a rather shocked state. What could there possibly be to be amused about?  
  
"Veralidaine Sarrasri I presume?" Came the course, sharp edged voice as the man spoke his first words to her. His tone was mocking polite, making the fury in her heart only build up further. Daine continued to stare in his direction. Her stare was cold and rocky and she could tell that it bit at the man's pride. "Have you a voice? Can you not speak, woman?" The man added, his brows furrowing together now as he looked down upon her. The brown orbs in his head no longer sparkled with curiosity and amusement, but radiated with tepid anger.  
  
Then the sound of the man's boots clicking softly against the stone floor filled Daine's ears briefly, followed by a ringing and a sting of pain as the man stiffened as he stood before her and let his hand fly against her cheek. He had been almost calm in this action. "You will speak when spoken to!" It was a command, thrown roughly at her, making her shake from sudden fear. She had not been expecting the man to explode so quickly nor so discreetly. After a moment spent recollecting herself after the blow, Daine once again dared to face the man. She grimaced when she found his face. He was glaring down upon her hunched form in untamed anger.  
  
Daine gasped audibly, shaking with fear as the man suddenly thrust his hand forward, entangling it in her mass of smoky brown curls. He grasped her hair firmly and then yanked her entire body up off of the ground with it using great force. He bent his head down, leaning forward until he was at eye level with the now grimacing Daine as she struggled in pain within his grasp. His face was close enough to her own, that Daine could fell his warm, greasy breath against the skin of her face, making her very skin crawl with disgust. It smelled strongly of wine and whiskey, making her want to shiver away from his hold. "Do you dare defy me, you worthless wench?!" The Scanran roared, the stench of his breath washing over Daine in full force. Building up the bile in his throat at will, the man spat in Daine's face, which was mere inches away. She groaned, unable to wipe the mess off of her face, but desperately wanting to. She wanted to break free of this man's hold and run as far as she possibly could from him. She never wanted to see him or any other Scanran again.  
  
The man roared with sudden laughter, slapping his thigh with his spare hand as he saw the look of pure disgust on the young woman's face. He made no move to wipe the saliva away, or to let her do so. He grinned a full smile at her, showing all of his yellow teeth in amusement. Daine desperately wanted to break away, get out of his hold, but she could not. She was weary from lack of proper food and water, while this man was at full strength. If possible, the man's grin only broadened as he uttered his next statement. "You shall prove to be an excellent play thing for my men and I, wench," He pressed his face closer to hers, rubbing his whiskered cheek against her own. She felt the urge to vomit and draw away, but was not given that choice. Daine now shook with fear, perhaps the greatest fear she had ever felt in her life. She felt completely helpless in the clutches of this man, and knew that she had no way of escaping from this one. "Or perhaps just for myself. A gem like you is hard to come by, and I long for female company to warm my bed." Again the man's laughter filled the thick air as he chuckled mirthlessly, sending shivers of pure terror down Daine's spine.  
  
"You sure are a pretty little thing," The man crooned, reaching out his spare dinner plate sized hand to stroke her back. Daine trembled beneath his touch, flinching and attempting to jerk away. She watched in fear as the pure lust began to fade from the man's eyes to again be replaced with that cruel anger. "Unfamiliar with a man's touch?" he hissed, eyes once again alight with amusement. Daine knew that he greatly enjoyed his vocal torture of her, but that things would only grow worse. "No matter," the man drawled on, his voice slicing the thick air like a double edged sword. "You shall submit to me, wild mage."  
  
With that, Daine knew that for a while, the talking was done. The man closed the short distance between them, pressing his hard, greasy lips over hers, his tongue thrusting forward into her mouth. She gasped in pain, as the kiss went on, for he was not gentle with her. She cried out a second time when his hands flew to her breasts. She immediately tried to squirm out of his hold, only to receive a sharp blow across her face. The man then shoved her roughly away from him, snarling his fierce anger at her refusal to accommodate his advances. Soon, he was upon her once again with a fury of painful punches and kicks, each landing a new place. He roared with untamed anger as he continued to beat her.  
  
After many long, agonizing minutes, the beating ceased. The man's arms then traveled around her waste as he lifted her roughly from the floor and into his cruel arms. "You shall learn to submit to me, wench," his voice filled her ears as he pressed his face down against hers once again, his beard tickling the side of her face. "Even the fiercest of Tortallan warriors have been broken at my hand." He then began to drag her out of the cell and in the direction that not long before, when Daine had been alone and in peace in her cell, she had heard the screams and wails of agony of the tortured soldier. Daine knew now that she was to be next.  
  
'Cause I'm broken when I'm open  
And I don't feel like I am strong enough  
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome  
And I don't feel right when you're gone away  
  
(Numair's POV approximately 1 week later)  
  
"Numair, we'll find her," Alanna assured her lanky friend, all the while careful to keep a firm hold on the reins. She pulled her buckskin mount, Darkmoon, to walk up closer to Numair's. "Calm your nerves. Worrying up a storm will do Daine no good."  
  
"How can you ask that of me at a time like the present?" Numair questioned, appalled by the lady knight's smooth and seemingly placid tone. Even now, his heart beat with unmatched rhythm within his chest, its sounds of panic echoing repeatedly in his mind. His breathing had remained erratic throughout the entire length of their journey, causing him great difficulty. "In my position, would you be anything less than frightened out of your wits?"  
  
At the mage's comment, Alanna forced a small smile for his sake. He had proved a decent and undoubtedly true point. "I cannot begin to fathom what you're going through right now, Numair, but I just wish that your could calm down, if only a little. I worry for you as well as I do for Daine," Alanna said, eyes shining with a friendly devotion. The gods only knew that she herself was worried to a great extent for her young friend. It had been only a day since news had reached the palace of Daine's abduction and location. Spy reports had concluded that the young wild mage had been taken captive by a Scanran militia not far from the Tortallan border. She was now in their hands, kept prisoner at a Scanran fort not far from the border. The gods only knew what Daine was going through this very moment. Alanna willed herself not to think of such gruesome things, especially when she could do no better than to assume them to be true. The chances though were not in her young friend's favor.  
  
"Was the information received without doubt?" Numair questioned, knowing full well that he had asked Alanna this same question countless times since they set off at sunrise this morning with the troops.  
  
"I've already explained to you Numair, that George received the information from his most trustworthy of spies," Alanna replied, if a little reluctantly. Though she was annoyed by this constant repetition of questions, she would tolerate it for the time being. Her heart went out to her lanky friend, and she could not be cruel to him at a time like this.  
  
"How could he be certain that it was our Daine in that fort?"Numair had asked this question previously as well, but could not help but ask again. It seemed that no intake of information made sense in a time like this. He could not recall a time in his life when he was more frightened. It was amazing that all it took to strike fear into this seemingly fearless black robe was a certain young woman with smoky brown curls. "There are many young women with the riders, perhaps he was mistaken. What if we haven't found her?"  
  
"Numair, you know well that Lucas has seen Daine on countless occasions and would know her without a doubt if he were to see her," Alanna assured once more, hoping that in even the slightest way, she was soothing the mage. She hated to see him in such a state. "Now please, if not for your sake then for Daine's, calm yourself. You're making your mount nervous!" Alanna scolded, seeing Numair's spotted mount taking each step on the tips of his hooves. The horse's eyes clearly shone white with fright, and Alanna knew from experience that his rider caused such anxiety.  
  
Numair sighed, absently reaching out a calloused hand to stroke Spots on the side of his neck. His mind began to drift for the umpteenth time that day, to thoughts of his young lover and what terrible things she must be going through now. How could he have let this happen? Since he first learned of Jon's intention to send Daine on this spy mission, he knew that something was not right. He had not done enough to pursue his feeling though, and now things were a mess to say the least. Gods, what he wanted more than anything was to suddenly wake up from this horrible nightmare and find that Daine had not gone on the mission after all, but was safely curled in his arms, sleeping soundly.  
  
"How could I have let this happen to her?" Numair voiced his thoughts, voice emitting a short whimper. With every breath, he felt as though it ought to be his last, for he was that afraid. "I'm supposed to be there to protect her, to save her. How could I have let her do this?"  
  
"Numair, you and I both know that you could never have said or done anything to stop her…"Alanna tried once more to convince her friend that he was not to blame for there was nothing more that he could have done. "When will you see that your are not to blame for what's happened to Daine? I know you love her, Numair, and what you're feeling is natural, but it is not right. Accept what has happened and do what you can to rectify it. It was not your fault."  
  
"I wish that it were all that easy…"Numair mused, forcing a light chuckle. He just wished for all of this to be over with. When he reached Daine and freed her from those savages, by the great gods he would never allow her to stray from his sight again. "I'm so afraid that we'll never find her….I just do not know what I would do without her. She is what I wake up for every morning and what gets me through every day." At this, tears burned beneath his eye lids, but he forced them back. He did not want to shed any tears, at least not in front of his long time friend, though he knew that she of all people would understand. He had seen her near tears several times since they had first learned of Daine's location.  
  
"We'll find her, Numair," Alanna said firmly, voice as sure as ever. She had never before made a promise to anyone that meant more to her to keep than this one she now made to Numair. She would find Daine and return her to her lover, or she would die trying. Alanna could not stand to see Numair without his love any longer. He was beyond the state of miserable without her, and things could only go farther down hill, she knew. She hated that all she could give him now were words and promises. "I promise you here and now that we will find Daine."  
  
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome  
And I don't feel right when you're gone away  
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome  
And I don't feel right when you're gone away  
  
A/N: Well? What did you all think? I hope that wasn't too confusing...I would definately appreciate as much feedback as you can give, because that will help me to wrap this little story up. I'm almost done with it...just 2 more chapters, I'm thinking....I should have an update for you within the next week, probably sooner though....I need to finish up the ending to the next chapter. Also, just so you know, the next chapter will still have everything taking place in the past because the story of what happened to Daine is most definately not done....not sure if you guys will thoroughly like the outcome or not, so we'll just have to wait and see, won't we? Be sure to review, for then I'll be inspired to update sooner! 


	3. Daine's Request

A/N: Sorry everyone! I hate to say that its just the usual excuses with me, but its true... I've just had so much going on lately that it isn't even funny. I've had major family trouble which is depressing and unhelpful to writing as I'm sure some of you know not to mention I've had oodles and oodles of school work....Also, and this is on a good note, I recently got a new horse and he's been a handful. I'll be putting all the info about him in my bio later today, so check it out if you're interested. I'm very excited! I really needed this after the sudden loss of my other horse. 

Anyway, I can't apologize enough for not updating. This chapter was extremely hard for me to work out, but I've done my best and I hope you like it. I'm sorry that its rather depressing and that it doesn't end well. I know many of you are extremely displeased with me because of that, but I wrote this story for a reason and I intend to follow through with it. To tell you the truth, I was inspired to do this when I lost my horse. I was feeling so horrible that I can't even begin to explain it. It was like I'd lost my best friend. Those of you who talk to me over AIM know how depressed I was and how it affected me. That was why I started this fic; to help me vent some of my feelings. Anyways, I hope you like it despite its lack of a happy ending. I really hope that like me, you'll find that not every story can end happily, but that its still okay in the end...

Disclaimer: none of its mine, none of it...

(Numair's POV 2 days later after the Tortallans win over the Scanran fort she is imprisoned in)

Numair was fear driven as he raced blindly through the many winding tunnels of the now captured Scanran fort. The blood rushing through his veins pounded with thunderous strength in his mind. His heart raced furiously within his chest, bound tightly by the thick ropes of pain. It was like a horrible stinging sensation, flowing rapidly over every inch of his body, scarring him both emotionally and physically. It was the same pain he had felt since the very moment he first learned of his lover's imprisonment. Now though, it had been magnified many times to that point that it was hardly bearable. It was only his love for Daine and his determination to find her that kept him on his feet now. It was his lack of knowing her state and if she was even alive and what pains she might still be facing that allowed him to press on. He had to find her.

He was completely alone now, as he searched madly for his love. None had dared to follow him after the battle had ended, for none wanted to witness the mage's good nature fade upon seeing his lover's condition. They all had known for certain that Daine would be in a terrible state both physically and emotionally; only Numair had not known it for fact. He would not have allowed himself to jump to such a conclusion, not yet.

It was as if he ran without sight now, for he was guided not by his eyes, but by his heart. There was an invisible force that pulled him in the direction he went, and that same force rushed him to a hasty stop when he was about to pass a large iron door. It was by far the largest door he had passed yet, and the only one to be made of a substance aside from thick oak wood. Breathing hard, for he had sprinted the entire distance during his search, he knew that behind this door, he would find Daine.

Without hesitating for another moment, Numair reached out and roughly threw the door open, ignoring its massive weight and strain on his arm; he did not care. All that he could think of now was reaching his love and freeing her from this nightmare of a place.

"Daine!" He began to call, picking up his pace to a jog, breathing heavily for his workload this day had been great. A shiver ran down Numair's spine suddenly as he entered this new room, for he felt the temperature drop significantly. It was cold and damp and there was an unavoidable stench of blood and death. It did not take Numair long to realize where he was standing now, and the realization hit him as if he had suddenly been trampled by a dozen horses at once. He gasped, understanding now that he stood in the entry way of a chamber of torture. Numair's eyes widened in untamed horror, his mouth drooping open in a gasp as his eyes closely scanned the walls of the room. They were adorned with countless objects that were meant but for one purpose: pain.

His eyes traveled across the cold stone walls, falling upon many instruments of torture that he recognized both from experience on the receiving end and from books he had read. He swallowed hard when he saw what he knew to be a cat's paw. It was a rake-like object made of iron that was extended on a long oak wood pole. Beside where it was propped against the wall were shackles meant to bind and suspend a grown man from the wall so that the instrument could be applied. It was meant to be raked against the back of the victim, tearing away mercilessly at their flesh, as the paw of a cat does to its prey.

Once again, Numair's heart began to race with new found panic. He had to find Daine; he had to find her now. What if she had been in this room? What if those savages had used these devices on her? These questions and countless others raced through Numair's mind with a vengeance. "Daine!" He began to call out as he had before, but this time with a much more panic stricken tone. He allowed his eyes to search the room, praying that he would find her in this large amount of space. "Daine!" Again, his call was met by nothing but an eerie silence, further terrifying him. He began to move forward towards an open trap door positioned in the center of the room. Reaching it, Numair began to jog down the stairs without hesitation. The walls were lined with a series of torches held up by wooden brackets, providing light for the chamber bellow.

It was not until Numair had reached the bottom of the small flight of stairs that his eyes fell on a site that would haunt him until he would breathe his last many years later. "No….." He breathed, eyes widening with unmatched horror. "Daine!"

Mind a whirl of emotions, fear eminent, Numair rushed forward to her. Every step he took felt as though he were walking a mile at a time. She lay only a short distance from the base of the stone stairway, crumpled on the floor, her face to the wall. He dove onto his knees in a great hurry beside her, all the while cursing to every god he could name under his breath. "Daine…" He called her name in little more than a whisper, though he knew that she could hear him. For the first time since he had set eyes on her this day, she stirred ever so slightly, as if in great pain. It was then that Numair noticed for the first time just what a state she was in. It was beyond anything he could ever have imagined finding. She donned not a stitch of clothing as she shivered ever so slightly in the deathly cold air of the chamber.

Without hesitating a moment, Numair pushed his way closer to her, all the while struggling to get out of his warm cloak. As soon as he was free from its confines, the chill air of the room seeped through his thin white shirt with a vengeance, making him shiver suddenly. He gently eased his arms around her deathly cold, pale skin and drew her closer to himself. He then wrapped the cloak firmly around her shoulders, all the while rubbing his calloused hands over her body to help warm her further. Beneath his touch, she began flinching violently. Her eyes shot open in fear, and Numair knew that she did not know who it was that held her. "Hush now, sweet," he crooned softly, still stroking her arms, "Its only me…." It pained him deeply that she had not known who he was straight off.

"Numair?" came a soft, rugged question. It was not the soft, sweet voice that he had grown to love. It was as if her voice revealed that she had been far too abused to ever love again. He could tell from her fearful and forced tone that it pained her to speak.

"Yes, sweet," He replied softly, drawing her closer to his chest and peering down so that she could see him clearly. "I'm hear now; you're safe…." Immediately, at this assurance from him, her flinching ceased and she came to a still. Now, she only trembled lightly from the horrible pain that came to her with every breath that she took. It was in this stretch of silence that Numair really began to examine her. He could see clearly now what he had not noticed before this moment, and it sent him into a new string of fear. Bruises of deep blues and purples covered her entire body, some turning a tinge of yellow with infection. Upon closer examination, he could see that hideously deep gashes covered her entire back. His mind flashed back to the torture chamber he had previously been in, and he realized now that she must have been exposed to the cat's paw.

Anger began welling up inside of him as he continued to search her body for further wounds. Whoever had done this could not be human, but monster. He wanted to find that man and strip the very flesh from his body. Numair could see now just how serious a state she was in, and with a horrible realization admitted unwillingly to himself that she could never survive. Very few victims exposed to the cat's paw ever lived to see the next light, and it was obvious that the wounds were not fresh. Though he knew all of this to be the terrible truth, he would will himself not to believe it. She could not die. She had to live out a long life with him. She could not leave him alone.

Without warning, tears began pouring steadily down Numair's face as he continued to gaze down at his fated lover. He shook violently with both disgust and fear as he felt her body trembling within his hold. She shivered with force, obviously having been fully exposed to the cold for far too long. Anger welled up inside him as his eyes fell upon the dried blood that was caked all over his lover's body, and the traces of vomit. It was a wonder that she was even still breathing, though he knew that in the state she was in, she could not last much longer; perhaps no more than a few days. For the time that she had left, Numair knew that it would be filled with nothing but torture for the both of them. It would be nothing but suffering for her, for it was obvious that she was in great pain even now.

'Cause I'm broken when I'm open  
And I don't feel like I am strong enough  
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome  
And I don't feel right when you're gone away 

"Love you…." Daine murmured, voice muffled by the folds of her lover's shirt. The sound of her shaking voice startled Numair out of his troubled thoughts. He turned his attention back to her, taking in her words with a painful tug of his heart. She spoke as if she were fated, as if she understood that she was to die.

Numair held her unbearably close within the circle of her arms, trying his best to not be disheartened by her trembling and shivering. Gods, he wished that her pain could be gone now, for then her leaving him would be that much easier. If anything, he could not bear to see her in such tremendous agony. "Don't speak as though you won't see tomorrow's light…"Numair replied raggedly, as if begging her to listen. He knew though, that she wouldn't. She was of too stubborn a nature, even now as she lay dying.

Deep inside, Numair longed to make her see, to make her understand that she would survive. But it was nothing more than a lie, and he knew it. Feeling helpless and cursed, Numair bent his head down, gently capturing his lover's lips. They were icy and chapped, the skin peeling beneath his touch. Faintly, though she gave it her all, he could feel her begin to respond. Her nails, jagged and broken dug deep into his arms, drawing tiny rivers of blood as she clung to him with all that she had. In this moment, they both shared the same longing to melt into one another, to share the other's pain and take it upon themselves, stealing it away. There was no spell, no simple nor intricate magic that could bind them in this way. What had become of them was to stay.

Trembling, Numair pulled away from Daine, drawing in ragged breaths of air before returning to her. Again she accepted him, her lips trembling with fatigue. She could scarcely manage to hold up her head, he could tell.

"Numair…" came the hushed voice of Daine, ragged from confinement. He could feel her begin to shift her weight ever so lightly beneath him as she tilted her chin up to make eye contact with him. The vulnerable, broken emotion that shone clearly in her dull, glazed blue gray orbs sent a series of chills down his spine.

"I'm here sweet," He cooed softly, knowing just by the abused look in her eyes that what she had to say to him now, he would not like. He prepared himself for further shock, though he was certain that he could stand no more surprises; not today. Knowing that he was on the verge of losing the one he woke up for everyday had been far too much as it was. He began to entangle his spare hand in her mass of smoky brown curls, intimately stroking them with tender fingers.

"Please….don't leave me…"She pleaded with him, her voice desperate and lost. Her eyes glimmered with utmost betrayal. Though he knew that she had not intended that look to be for him, he could not help but feel shattered inside as a result of it.

"I won't leave you, Daine….," he soothed, stroking her hair more vigorously. He could not help but clench his other hand into a balled fist. If only he could find the one responsible for all that had happened to Daine. "Not ever…" he added as an after thought. He wanted desperately to console her, though he knew that his chances were slim. Gods he loved her; how he would miss her; how he would mourn her.

Before Numair could comprehend what was happening, tears suddenly began pouring like rain down her cheeks. Her gaze burned into him, her eyes filled with utmost terror and pain. She was soon lost in a fit of wracked sobs and choked breathing. He drew her close on impulse, pressing her to his chest with one hand, while the other rubbed her back soothingly in hopes to dim her pain. Even as he held her within the safe confines of his arms, it felt to him as if it were she holding and comforting him. "Shhh," he crooned, intent on settling her down. The more that she fought with herself, the harder this all would be. "Hush now, sweetling." He continued to stroke her back, his love for her radiating off of his hands. Her neck was curled within the tuck of his neck, her tears pouring against his tanned Tyran skin and drizzling down his neck to mix with tears of his own.

Finally, she found the strength to relay a message to him, though he could tell that it cost her greatly to do so. It was a sign that she could hold on only so long, for she was broken beyond repair. "They raped me, Numair…" her voice was little more than a hushed whisper, but he heard every last word as it vibrated against his neck as clearly as if she had shouted it directly into his ear. Every muscle in his body tensed with sudden rage and his heart stopped for a fraction of a second as her words began to sink in to their full intensity. She had been raped. Daine, the love of his life, had been violated in the worst of ways by her captors. Though in the back of his mind he had known this to be an inevitable possibility, for she was a female prisoner, it still left him dumbfounded and enraged that it had actually happened. Out of respect for her, they had not consummated their relationship for they had wanted to wait until they decided for certain to wed.

"Mithros…" Numair mumbled incoherently, unable to speak correctly for the amount of anger he now harbored. His eyes burned with hot tears that threatened to be released. He would not let them fall, not now, not in front of her. He had to be strong for her.

Finding it hard to control his anger, Numair clenched both of his hands into balled fists, digging the tips of his finger nails deep into his palms. Distantly, he could feel a cool, gel-like substance dripping slowly down his wrists for he had dug his nails deep enough to draw blood. He did not immediately release pressure, for his mind had drifted to faraway places that he could not feel his own pain; it was too great. A dull roar began to sound within his mind, building up in intensity until it soon became clear. It was the terrified cries and wailing of a familiar young woman. With every cry, she called his name, as if begging him to come to her and save her. But he had come too late for her, and she would be lost. The cries were that of his love and they would soon be his own voice as he cried in mourning for Daine. She could not save him now, just as he could no longer save her. They were lost to each other and they both regretfully knew it.

Numair snapped out of his thoughts as he felt trembling fingers brush his cheek ever so lightly. He looked down to see that Daine had extended her arm feebly up to his face, reaching out to touch him. Shivers of utmost pleasure ran down his spine as he felt the tips of her once silky smooth fingers graze his skin as tenderly as she could muster. Looking down now, Numair met her gaze not for the first time only to find her blue gray eyes once full of playful mischief now clouded with troubled thoughts and immense physical pain and woe. Her eyes were a window to her soul, and in them he could see that her spirit, once as rampant as the wild animals she so loved, now broken.

Delicately and with utmost care, Numair brought his hand up from where it rest in her mass of curls, sliding it slowly up her arm. He eased his hand over her smaller one that rest on his face, cupping it gently and stroking each of her fingers with his thumb. He drew in breath slowly as if trying to slow down time and to keep it from slipping from his hands. He savored the time that he had left with her as he knew that it was not much. Though her sobbing of moments before had ceased to only an intense trembling throughout her body, her distressed and troubled state was still obvious.

"Kiss me…."Again Numair was drawn from his thoughts by Daine, though this time be her shaking voice. He met her eyes, watching as her long, thick lashed beat against her cheek with interest. Her request was made from a fated heart, and so he granted it knowing that he wanted to as much as she wanted him to. He brought his head down to hers, drawing her into a deep kiss. He eased his lips over hers with care, not wanting to cause her further pain. She whimpered quietly into the kiss as the parted briefly for air, for her lips had been bruised many times by the abuse of her cruel captors.

When they parted again, they did not return to each other, but instead a long silence loomed over them. Neither would meet the other's eyes, both too afraid of what they would find there. Finally, the silence was broken as the sound of Daine's ragged, broken voice split the air, "Numair?" she called, as if in question to him. There was an odd tone to her voice, one that Numair could not remember having ever detected there before. It was as if something within her mind had changed, as if a transfer had been made and she had decided something she had previously been unsure of.

"I'm here," he replied firmly, holding her tightly. Though she had not been looking at him before, he could feel her eyes burning into him now until he was compelled to look down at her. Their eyes met for the hundredth time since he had found her, but this time her eyes told a different story, yet one that held similarities as well. Before, when her eyes had shown him a broken, confused young woman, now he saw that that broken young woman was no long so confused. Daine had come to some sort of conclusion he knew, for all he need know to make such a conclusion was written in her tortured blue gray orbs.

"Do…you love me?" Her voice shook as she said this, almost as if she dreaded his answer. Could she truly believe anything aside from him loving her? He hated beyond all things to think that now of all times she would doubt his love for her. If she doubted their love and his feelings for her now, how could he even begin to bear parting with her on such conditions?

"Gods, Daine you know that I do…." he replied, slightly frustrated and feeling guilty for allowing such an emotion to seep into his being. "I'll always love you, sweet; in this life and the next…forever…"he added, as if assuring her of his true feelings of love for her. He began stroking her cheek ever so lightly with the tips of his fingers, further showing her.

"Would…would you do anything for me?" Her voice was strained as she spoke. Numair knew that the simple act of speech was becoming more difficult for her as she was growing weaker and her pain grew greater.

This last question puzzled Numair greatly, for she had never asked him anything of the sort before. Before now, she had never needed to know if he would do anything for her and it tore at his heart. Voice choked from emotion so that he could scarcely speak, Numair finally struggled out, "I would do anything for you, be anything for you….whatever you wanted…I want you to know that…" This was perhaps the most serious, heart felt thing he had ever said to her and it pained him to do so. He stifled back as sob as he spoke these words, mind in a whirl of emotion. He just wanted to wake up and find that all of this had been some sort of a twisted nightmare; no more than a vividly painful dream.

Numair watched as his lover's already tormented eyes began to well up with tears once more as she choked back sobs. It was obvious to him now, even through his frantic state of mind that there was something she wanted to ask of him; something of utmost importance. The words that were soon to play on her lips were ones that he could never have dreamed of. She would make a request that he dared not ever imagine, nor even dread.

"Then please….Numair…."she stumbled with her words, voice hoarse and distraught all the while fighting back tears with what little strength she still possessed, "…steal my pain…."

The worst is over now and we can breathe again  
I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away  
There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain 

Momentarily stunned by her words, Numair found himself shocked into silence. He was unsure what to make of her request, for he did not entirely understand its meaning. There was a strange intensity in her voice as she had spoke, and it sent shivers down Numair's spine. "You know that I'd give anything now if I thought you could be free from this…."Numair tried to harness his thoughts and mold them into words, but he found it to be a difficult task. He was still unsure how to respond to her last statement. He hoped that he had said what she wanted, though he knew by her tone that there was something more that he as not understanding.

Numair's insides began to stir suddenly as she felt his lover's hand slide down his back and shakily make its way to his belt. Shivers of confusion went down his spine as he felt her inch her fingers along until they fell upon what she sought. She began tugging at the sheath of his small dagger that was pressed up against his hip, strapped to the belt around his waist. Understanding of what she wanted began seeping into his entire being, bringing him to a horrifying conclusion. She wanted him to take her life, to steal her last breath away! She wanted him, the man who woke up every day for her and breathed every breath for her sake alone to take her life away and end her pain. "Daine, you can't…..I can't….please…." He struggled to find the right words, anything to change her mind from where he knew she had taken it. He now feared her stubborn nature, for he knew that would be what would prevent her from seeing reason now.

His heart began thumping madly within his chest as he felt her trembling fingers begin fumbling with the buckle that held the dagger safely in place. Quick as lightning, but with the gentleness of a lamb, He eased he hands over her own that sought his dagger, pulling it away just as she had freed the weapon from its confines. Despite his care, the dagger slipped silently from her fingers, falling to the floor with a clatter of noise. Daine immediately flinched at the sound, her trembling increasing once more. Numair held her tightly to his chest, allowing her no movement for fear she would ask him again what she had before. "Numair-" she began, only to be cut off by the sharp tone of his voice.

"Hush sweet," Numair cooed, voice edged with a sudden sharpness. He tightened his grip on her hands, praying that she would not struggle with him now, or insist on what she wanted from him; he could never do it.

Against his hope, she began to struggling to free herself from his confines, though he would not budge in the slightest. She began to whimper with frustration; wanting only for him to free her from the terrible pain she felt now. "Please, Numair…..I….c-can't stand this any longer…." she pleaded with him, begged him to come through with her wishes.

Panic coursed rampantly through Numair's veins now. He had told her that he would do anything for her, and now he refused her the one thing that he could grant her in her last hours. He knew she could never survive this, and he wanted her to feel no more pain, but how could he go through with what she asked of him? Could she not see that he too suffered? Looking down at her, Numair watched as she jerked her head away from him with what little strength she possessed; she refused to meet his eyes this time. Gently so as not to hurt her, Numair brought is hand to her face, tilting her chin so that he could gaze into her eyes. Now, teamed with the pain and brokeness, her blue gray orbs revealed a strong sense of betrayal. Numair's heart shattered at what he saw. It had been his own doing that put the betrayal in her eyes. Gods how he wanted to make that look vanish, to do as she wished, but he did not think he was strong enough.

'Cause I'm broken when I'm open  
And I don't feel like I am strong enough  
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome  
And I don't feel right when you're gone away 

Finally, Numair knew what he had to do. This was a purpose the gods had made him for. Not only was he to love her and treasure her for the time they had, he was to put an end to her pain when the time came. That time was now. He knew that though the task would be difficult for him, it was what he ought to do. For his Daine, the love of his life, he would do anything; he had told her that he would. He would not shy away now when she needed him the most. He would not let her stay in this world of endless pain. He would put an end to her suffering now.

"Daine, are you certain this is what you want?" He asked her, voice serious. It was hard for him to keep his voice soft when inside his mind was in a whirl of emotion and his heart in a storm of suffering.

Struggling slightly, she lifted her head up from where it was buried in the confines of his shirt and tilted it up to look at him. Their eyes met, both welling up with tears. In her eyes now, he could see the tiniest shred of hope, as if a tiny spark of the fire that had always been there, reserved only for him, was there once more. It made the reality of what he was about to do so much more painful. She did not need to give him a vocal response to his question; the look in her eyes told him everything that he needed to know. This was the last thing that he could do for her now, and she direly wanted him to do it.

Blindly, for he did not wish to tear his eyes away from her own, Numair reached down to the floor at his side and fumbled for the dagger that had dropped there only minutes before. He found it almost instantly and lifted it by its hilt. Bringing the weapon up to eye level, Numair eyed it with foreboding as it glimmered menacingly in the flickering torchlight. It was small for a dagger, but effective none the less. Its handle was made of finely carved ivory, a delicacy of the copper isles. The short curved blade was concocted of the finest steel, made never to rust or wear. Briefly, Numair found himself distracted with memories of the day he had received this dagger. It had been a gift from his Daine for Midwinter just over four years previous. She had scolded him not long before that for only caring a tiny, well rusted and worn pocket knife with him into battle. She had asked him what he would do if he were to find himself drained of his gift while still in the midst of danger. That same midwinter, she had given him the dagger, telling him that he ought to have a decent weapon aside from his gift; just in case. In a way, he wished now that he did not carry such a weapon, for then she could not ask this task of him.

Briefly, Numair bent down, kissing her forehead lovingly, lightly toying with a piece of her hair with his spare hand. Stroking her cheek with trembling fingers, he gazed down into her blue gray eyes, wanting to burn them into his memory forever. He wanted to remember everything about her, the way she smiled, the feel of her lips on his, the feel of her fingers as the brushed his skin; everything. "I love you…" he whispered, hollowly, brokenly. After this day, beyond this moment, he would never be the same man. He would be empty, having nothing that could bring him joy and fill his being again. He would have to live with the thoughts and dreams of what might have been; what should have been. He would live on, knowing that he and Daine had never started a family nor even married. He would never be a husband and would never have a wife. Until the end of his days, he would live in utter misery, haunted by broken dreams and what should have been.

"I…love you…too…" Daine choked out, voice amazingly calm for the situation she was in. Numair was unsure if he could remain so calm and collected as he stared death in the face. Now though, he was not entirely sure that he did not want to die.

Closing his eyes tightly shut, unable to face her any longer, Numair lifted up the dagger, poising it to strike. In his mind, he tried not to think of what he was doing, for then he might be unable to follow through with it. To end such a beautiful life this way; it seemed such a tragic way to end things. Just as he was about to bring the dagger down, bringing her life to a close, the sound of her trembling voice shook the air around him, freezing him completely in his motions. His eyes snapped open immediately only to be met by her blue gray orbs. There were tears in her eyes; tears of suffering and pain, but also tears of longing and pity for him. Despite all she had faced and all that pained her now, she still felt deeply for him; she still had room for love.

"No…." she voiced, bringing her hand up to his face to cup his cheek; an action he himself had used to comfort her countless times. Her voiced cracked and shook in that single word, but it was firm and strong was the crashing waves of the ocean.

Numair looked to her in question, eyes welling up with still unshed tears. Though he was to be the one stealing her pain, he still had a great deal of his own. It was as if she intended to do the same for him. It amazed him that even as she faced death, she had room to think of him, to worry for him and even love him still.

Against his will, tears of utmost frustration and brokeness fell down his face, rolling down his cheeks. He had wanted to be strong for her, but here he was direly needing her to rescue him when it ought to be him saving her. He felt further pain and longing as he felt her calloused finger tips smoothly stroke his face. She no longer trembled as she ran her hands over his cheeks, nose, forehead and eyes. Though he could not understand a word she said, he could hear her whispering assuring, comforting words to him. He felt her brush his tears away with steady fingers. Neither of them spoke aside from tiny whispers of assurance, but few words were needed this time. It was their actions that spoke for them, ringing so much louder than words.

Again Numair reached for the dagger, steadying himself to strike once more. Just as he clamped his eyes shut though, her voice split the air as he had before in quiet refusal. Did she not want him to do this after all?

"No…" she voiced in little more than a whisper. He heard as clearly as though a thousand trumpets blared in his ear, "Please, Numair…don't close your eyes……" When he looked at her in awestruck question, she continued, "I… want them…to be the last..thing I see…."

His heart warmed at her request, loving that she felt that way still, but dying because he knew that he could not bear to gaze into her eyes as he took her life. For her though, he would do it; he had to, for it was all that he could do for her now. Heart beating rapidly, Numair nodded, looking down to gaze deeply into her blue gray eyes as he once more poised to strike. This time, he both feared and understood that she would not interrupt him again. This time, he would actually follow through with the deed, and things would be all over. After this moment, he would never see her alive again, nor would he see her take another precious breath of air.

Taking a deep breath, Numair prepared both physically and emotionally to strike. "I love you, magelet…" he spoke gently, using his pet name for her that he had concocted long ago when they had first met. He knew that that name that he reserved only for her meant more to her than he could ever understand, and so he spoke it to her now in her last moments. "I'll never love another…"

Without speaking another word, Numair breathed deeply, bringing down the dagger that was once poised over his head down to meet her chest, piercing her heart and shattering his own at the same time. All the while he executed this action, he held her eyes with his own, his heart captured by the way she gazed up at him. If his eyes and his ears did not deceive him, then just before the blow landed, she spoke a quiet good-bye to him and forced her lips to curve into a tiny smile just for him. He heard her emit a tiny gasp of pain as the dagger pierced her skin, tears streaming down her already tear stained face. Her pain lasted no longer than a few brief moments though, for in that time her chest fought to heave up and down for air, but it soon stopped. Now she lay still and unmoving, her chest quiet. Her eyes remained open, gazing hollowly back at him. Veralidaine Sarrasri was dead.

By now, Numair was breathing more heavily than ever. He immediately felt a strong sense of being completely alone in the chamber. It began swallowing him alive, for his mind went into a frenzy of emotion. In the back of his mind, he thought he could hear someone screaming. It took him several moments to realize that the screams of agony were his own. Without bothering to be gentle any longer, Numair threw himself onto the now lifeless body of his love, drawing her roughly to his chest. He received no response from her. She only lay still and unmoving in his arms, growing colder with every moment.

For a long while, Numair just lay with her in his arms, crying his heart out and cursing the gods for bringing this fate upon him and his lover. He wanted nothing more than to be struck down by Mithros himself in that very moment so that he may then join his lover forever.

After a while, Numair finally managed to pull himself together. He had no notion how long it had been since he first stumbled upon this chamber. His head ached terribly, slowing his every move. Drying his eyes on the sleeve of his blood stained white cotton shirt, Numair pulled his tunic more tightly around Daine's naked body. He gazed down upon her still form, finding himself unable to tear is eyes away from her hollow expression and her still blue gray eyes. As if in a daze, he reached down and adoringly pushed her eye lids, first one and then the other over her forever emotionless blue gray eyes, covering them. He bent down and eased his lips over her now icy cold lips, trying to bring them warmth once again but to no avail. It was hard for him to understand that she was gone forever.

Pulling his tunic more tightly around her still form, he lifted her body up into his arms with care as he stood to his feet. Hesitating only for a moment, he then carried her up the stone steps and out of the chamber. He would find Alanna and the others and break the news to them. They would return to Corus where she could have a proper resting place. Perhaps then he could find the savages that had brought this terrible fate upon himself and his lover.

I wanted you to know  
I love the way you laugh  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away  
I keep your photograph and I know it serves me well  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain  
'Cause I'm broken when I'm open  
And I don't feel like I am strong enough  
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome  
And I don't feel right when you're gone away 

A/N: Well? What did you guys think? I know, its very sad...passes around tissue box If you want, I'll do maybe one or 2 more chapters to this fic....they would include Numair finding the man who raped Daine and also going back to the first chapter when Numair is an old man reflecting back on what happened....so please, let me know if you forgive me and if you want me to do that! Also, I've picked up Wolfish Desires again, so that should be up and running shortly...Gallan Return will be picked up again as soon as Wolfish Desires is done! I promise! REVIEW!!!!


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